To Keep Sanity
by Alk1101
Summary: Elsa Arendelle is a mental hospital patient - she has murdered four people, all of whom were found frozen solid at the bottom of a lake. She claims to have no memory of the incidents and goes into insane fits, of which she was no collection of afterwards when the floor is coated in ice. But while she is in those seizures, she screams and curses that the Moon made her do it.
1. Chapter 1

**Elsa Arendelle is a mental hospital patient - she has murdered four people, all of whom were find frozen solid at the bottom of a lake. She claims to have no memory of the incidents and goes into insane fits, of which she was no collection of afterwards when the floor is coated in ice. But while she is in those seizures, she screams and curses that the Moon made her do it. She sees things that other people are missing, things that ****_aren't supposed to be there_****. Jack Frost knows why she does these things, and hunts her down to tell her the truth of her illness. Little did he know, there was much more than her violent condition, and she was on a desperate race to keep sanity.**

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><p>Its not really possible to fear what is normal. So I do not fear the man with the half steel face that breezes through the cafeteria and out a side door within seconds, and I watch him all the way. I narrowed my eyes and concentrated on how the middle of his features were split into one part robot, and the other human, held together by thick bolts with rust lacing the sides. My gaze traveled further down to his dark trench coat, but I couldn't make out his hands and feet underneath the gloves and combat boots. Suddenly, Robot Man turns to me and catches my eye, his mechanical one whirling like an illusion, a splash of every color twisting and coiling in the socket. He tips his large, broad-brimmed hat at me, then strode out, the thumps of heavy feet echoing all the way down the hall. Mary, one of the workers at St. Michael's Hospital for the Mentally Subnormal, steps into the doorway in which the man is leaving. When she sees me staring, she nods, one of her quick and thin-lipped acknowledgments. I don't try and warn her of the fact that the looming figure has just walked through her, as if made up of mist and steam, but instead turn away. They wouldn't believe me anyway.<p>

I pressed my lips together, refusing to follow my instinct and scream at everyone that a total stranger just swept in and left. I shuffle around in my seat to watch other peoples reaction - but no one noticed. Everyone is oblivious, some dull and poking their food with forks, others laughing loudly, and very few patients minding their own buisness. I'm not among anyone, because I always take the top right table, where no one sits because this was where most people with the worst conditions settled in, and people passed me with suspicious eyes and glares. It didn't really bother me that no one listened, or that no one liked me anymore. Sometimes I did question my sanity, and that was more often than not. 'Elsa.' My name was curt and sharp in the room, and I glanced up in a quick, jerky movement to see Mary standing there, with her hands clasped together and brown hair twined up, perfectly neat. I had always found Mary Poppins a mystery - she was stern but sweet, firm but gentle. Her crystal blue eyes watched me like a parent may regard a small child who needed a lecture. She called everyone else 'dear' and 'sweetie' at the end of sentences, but the first time she did that to me, I told her coldly to never do it again. 'Yes?' I asked, my voice muffled because I was resting it in the palm of my hand. I already knew what she was going to say.

_Elsa, its time to get your medication now._

But she surprises me when she gestures to the other tables. 'You can go sit at one of the populated tables and socialize, if you like.' I blinked up at her. 'I'm well aware of that.' She twists her mouth into a smile, and shakes her head, like I don't understand. 'No, no. I mean _any_ table. You've been...very good.' I hide my smirk as she struggles with the words - I've been anything but an angel. I'll do anything they want me to do, as long as I have a perfectly good reason to do so. 'And you haven't had a seizure in a week.' She adds for good measure. I continue staring out the window at the autumn playground below, orange leaves draping all the play equipment I used to hang upside down from. 'Also, you haven't had any hallucinations for a month.' Yes, I had. But I had just started hiding it so they wouldn't send me away into some place crueler and quieter. 'They're not fake hallucinations of the mind,' I raise my voice an octave on every word I utter, to get my point across, 'they're _real_.' I swear, everyone flinches when they hear those words from my lips, ones that usually after I say them, I wake up with a dozen needles piercing my skin, and the doctors telling me it will be alright. This was usually when I went into an insane spin. At the flick of a switch, whenever I defended my case, bad things unfolded afterwards. Including the death of four people I've never even met or heard of - I just know they're gone now, and _I killed them_. _  
><em>

'Yeees.' She draws out the 'e' over a long period of time, like trying to convince herself of my words just so I wouldn't do something regrettable. Then she turns her head around to bark out someones name. 'Rapunzel, dear! Would you please come over here?' I crane my neck, to see a shivering, petite girl surrounded by a halo of long, golden hair that brushes her ankles. Her green eyes are wide and frightful as she steps forward, but she tries to mask it as she clears her throat. Rapunzel and I had shared the same support group once - and I didn't know a lot about her condition other than that she was convinced she needed to see some lanterns, or whatever. And if she didn't, she'd do terrible things as well. 'What would you like, ma'am?' She puffs out her chest slightly, like she can take this all in her stride. A small laugh erupts silently in my chest, because I realize what Mary is doing before she even says it. 'Rapunzel, would you please take Elsa to Dr. Facilier for her prescription?' She glanced at me before averting her eyes, then smiled down at Rapunzel. 'We're going to give her something...lighter.' She patted Rapunzel on the shoulder, and then spun her towards me. I grunted my hello and brushed past her; she immediately followed, keeping pace with me, shoulder to shoulder. She opened her mouth to talk. 'So-'

'Please, don't speak to me.'

She rubs her forearm nervously. Before an uncomfortable silence can crawl up and mask me from her, she blurts out: 'Do you like lanterns?'

I sighed. She had asked me this before, but I had quickly disappeared into the crowd. Now there was no evading the question, unless I could go invisible. 'Yes, I do.'

She cracks a smile, her confidence growing. 'I want to see the lanterns some day. One time, I saw it from my window, moving across the sky at night time.'

I look down at her, a frown tugging at my mouth. 'Rapunzel, those are plane lights.'

She snaps her head at me, her eyes filled with disbelief and anger. 'No, they're lanterns.'

'What colors are they?'

'Red and white, and they blink in and out really fast. Like pretty electric lights.' Her eyes glaze over. She must be re-visiting her 'lantern' sighting again.

'Those aren't lanterns, Rapunzel.'

'No! My lanterns are-'

'_They are plane lights, so don't pretend they're any different_.' I press it on her, my words half-shouted, and she doesn't flinch, but instead looks away at the wall.

She shut her lips together, pressing them into a thin line of impatience. It took me a few seconds to realize we were going into the hall that the man had disappeared into. I faltered, and Rapunzel stopped and looked at me with worry. her eyebrows pinched low. 'Are you okay, Elsa?' She followed my line of sight, which was trained on the reception desk that had come into view. It was empty, the computer still on and documents left scattered.

And Robot Man sat in the chair.

His back was turned to me, and he was speaking to a woman. My throat clogs with panic and fear as I took in her frame. She was short, and wearing one of those old white night gowns that they stock my wardrobe with, even though I never lay a finger on them. The woman's face is fine - she was of average beauty, with dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes that were shaped like a felines. When she looks up, she locks my eyes into her stare and I feel frozen - _this isn't real, this isn't real._

Rapunzel is growing restless; she keeps shifting her weight and jogging on the spot like a wind-up toy. 'Elsa,' she whined, 'we need to go before we get in trouble. You know we can't stay unsupervised for more than 10 minutes.' But I can't look away. 'Rapunzel,' I breathe, shaking slightly as I lean towards her, 'tell me what you see down that hallway.' She frowns at me, then shakes her head, oblivious to the people right in front of her. 'I can't see anything...' she pauses, and stares at me skeptically, '...are you...are you okay?' I watch as the woman smiles at me, revealing gaps in her teeth. I let out an involuntary shudder that ripples through my body. 'There is a woman down the hall.' I whisper, my voice too frightened to speak properly. 'S-she...you can't see her?!' She was clear as day; her hair and clothes were even ruffling in the wind coming from the window. Then she lifts up one of her arms to wave. She-

'She has no hands.' I breathe, my vocals catching. Rapunzel starts walking backwards, gesturing with her fingers for me to follow. 'Come on, Elsa. Its okay.' I close my eyes, breathing in long and hard. _This isn't real, this isn't real_.

When I open my eyes, they're gone.

I heave out a sigh of relief, my body physically sagging. I make a half-smile at Rapunzel, then start laughing softly. She takes a step back, and I straighten my spine and shut up. I shouldn't have verbally let out my feelings. When I begin showing emotions, bad things start to follow. I glanced back at where Robot Man and the No-Handed Woman were just seconds ago, and then repeat the same chant over and over in my head:_ it isn't real, it isn't real._

'Come on,' I sigh, gesturing behind me to the cafeteria. 'Lets go.' I start moving around, but Rapunzel quickly grabs my wrist, shaking her head. 'No, we have to get your medication.' My gaze drops to her fingers tightening over my arm, and she lets out a small yelp and reels back like I was acid. 'S-sorry,' she stuttered, 'I didn't mean t-to-'

I wave her off, and then turn around to leave.

And there, inches from my nose, is the woman.

My whole body freezes up, panic seizing and numbing my muscles so I couldn't move. I just stare, eyes wide, mouth gaping but not making any noise as her mouth pulls into a small smile. We are at eye level, even though I'm easily taller than her, and she bends down lower to whisper something in my ear, making me shudder and want to scream and run. But I can't. I'm not in control of my own body.

'_It is real_.'

When she draws back, she is laughing in my face. The wind from the open windows picks up and wisps her hair around, tendrils of brown touching and flickering over my cheeks. I can feel the texture. _No, no, no._ My eyes move to Rapunzel, who hasn't noticed a thing, and is jittering again, desperate to get out of my company. Then, slowly, softly, without fear, the woman touches the stub of her arm to me. _Her hands aren't there._

Then, like a spell breaking and shattering, I take control of myself and jump back, letting out a startled cry, clawing at my cheeks, trying without success to wipe away the memory. I crouch down, silently screaming and shaking away the touch that is supposed to be imaginary, that is supposed to be a hallucination. I try to look around, but the world is just black and grey and white, blotches seeping into my vision, leaving me blind. And everywhere I look, the woman is grinning like a mad man, reaching towards me with her arms. I can't feel what I'm doing. I don't know if Rapunzel is gone, or if I'm having a fit. I just try and get away from the madness that is supposed to be illusory, but it is always there. The woman is always in my vision, laughing at me as I spiral into a seizure. As I spiral into insanity. As I hopelessly rack at the air where the ghost is supposed to be, I see Mary and a few other workers running towards me, but just barely, because the darkness has taken over my sight and I am alone.

And then, somewhere far off, I hear laughter.

Shrill, maniacal, psychopathic laughter that bounces off the walls, like the person can't get enough air to let out all their giggles.

It didn't take me long to realize the laughter was coming from me.

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><p><strong>Write out and roll out!<strong>

**~Alk1101~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Elsa Arendelle is a mental hospital patient - she has murdered four people, all of whom were find frozen solid at the bottom of a lake. She claims to have no memory of the incidents and goes into insane fits, of which she was no collection of afterwards when the floor is coated in ice. But while she is in those seizures, she screams and curses that the Moon made her do it. She sees things that other people are missing, things that ****_aren't supposed to be there_****. Jack Frost knows why she does these things, and hunts her down to tell her the truth of her illness. **

**But now they're getting worse. Everyday, something more disturbing and horrifying appears before her eyes - something only her alone can see. And now, more often then not, her rants and illusions are sending her to the hospital ****ward, and pretty soon, if she doesn't keep it together, she will be shipped off to an entirely new and stricter place that didn't put up with her beliefs.**

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><p>When I come to, the room is groggy and white, like the aftermath of being in a flash snapshot when you're in the dark, your pupils still adjusting to the bitter brightness. I've done this routine too many times to sit up and call on someone; instead, I laid back and observed the woman sitting on a comfy leather chair across from me. Green pillows made the only color in this square, precise room - everything else is simple, basic colors that don't strike a lot of attention, and the tables and cabinets don't exactly make any headlines either. 'Hello, Elsa,' the woman had a chirpy, smooth voice, 'I'm Dr. Ursula, and I'm here to help you.' I scan her white, cropped hair, which swiped back to make a boy-ish style, a fashion like she had been electrocuted years ago but had never bothered to lay it flat. She was a little pudgy - okay, a <em>lot<em> more than pudgy, but I wasn't the type to judge. Her black dress gave her way too much cleavage, and the clothing fanned out at the ends in strange tendrils, like thick ropes of ebony. When I caught her eye, I noticed just how much make-up she wore, as if she could hide all her chins with the power of cosmetics. She gave me a tight-lipped smile, just like the one Mary flashes at me when I start making her lose her patience. 'Why am I here?' I demand, starting to rise from the pillow.

What right did they have to just lock me up in the hospital when they felt like it? My insides burned with humiliation and anger. She made a knowing smile, and nodded. 'Ah, just like the reports.' She flipped through a hefty document, which had a photo of me on the front, much younger. I had been 10 when I entered St. Michael's Hospital for the Mentally Subnormal, and everything had been scary and huge when I had started. I winced, and rubbed my temple.

I had been stuck here for 8 years.

The photo is a spitting image of me now - wide, frantic, blue eyes and limp albino hair that was tamed into a braid that curled over my shoulder.

She must have thought I was feeling ill, because she opened her mouth to speak up, but I cut her off with a question I already knew the answer to.

'I did it again, didn't I?'

Mouth still open, but forming into another plastic smile, she nodded and then stood abruptly. 'You'll be released soon. There has been no reports of you being...physically dangerous after waking up, unlike other patients.' I couldn't help but make a mental devil grin.

'What about the first time?'

'Excuse me?'

'On my 11th birthday, there was a-' I paused, and then snapped my mouth shut, conjuring up an excuse quickly. The day after my birthday, I had risen in a hospital bed, and I remember later on, back at my ward, when Mary had told me I had broken one of the nurse's wrist in my sleep. I remember when one of the care-takers, Gothel, had come out with a red sheet cake, and along with her, some of the other children sang the happy birthday song as they laid it out in front of me. But I had been oblivious to the treat.

Because out the window, strung up on the large oak tree I climbed, were six children.

I remember screaming and descending into my rabbit hole of darkness, just like every time I lose control. I remember their expressions of pure terror, the caked-on blood still drying, like it was only done minutes ago. But most of all, I remember over the next few weeks, when my popularity descended drastically, and I just began to isolate myself, not bothering with introductions and being friendly. I had turned cold and sharp, blunt and not sugar-coating any of my words, unlike the care-takers and maids and nurses. I kept my sentences short as I could, hating to explain anything, losing my temper easily, and then there was the ice.

And now that I looked down at my fingertips, I saw the barest frosted patterns of complicated snowflakes on my nails.

I averted my eyes immediately - this was nothing new - and then gazed back at Dr. Ursula, who still had her patient face plastered on. It had been seconds after I stopped talking, and I started filling in the silence. I was a pretty good actress, and I knew I could fool her easily. 'The day after my 11th birthday, I woke up here and broke a nurse's wrist.' Then I folded my arms. 'Doesn't that count as 'physically dangerous'?' She must have noticed my triumph, because she started stomping all over it. 'Well, since that was 7 years ago, and you seem as docile as a dog, we've ruled it out.' I felt my jaw clenching. I hated that word. Docile. She must have seen my mouth tick, because she gave a grin before turning the handle of my door. 'You'll be left alone for half an hour with frequent nurse checks before you return back to St. Michael's.' Then her eyebrows shot up at something down the hall. 'Perhaps.' Then, seconds after the door had shut behind her, it burst back open, a fury of red hair and pale skin making an entrance.

I looked up at Ariel without any emotion, and she panted, out of breath, so it became obvious she had run all the way her. As she busied herself with tying up her layered, silky hair into a high ponytail, I looked away, not interested in her company. Ariel was one of the lower cases at the hospital, and had sought out my friendship more than enough times for me to be annoyed whenever she opened her mouth to speak to me. I should have suspected she would be here to make sure I was okay, because she was just that type of person. And, to be honest, I hated people who were too sweet for their own good. 'I - I came to - just give me a second.' She breathed in and out heavily, and I didn't talk the entire time, too busy watching the window as if it were more interesting then her. Gothel or Mary had obviously taken Ariel with them, because she had begged and begged. I only briefly remember Mary talking to Maleficent about her illness - she was convinced that there was aliens out there, way up into space, and we needed to connect with them, that she needed to be part of their world. In fact, she had made a satellite when she was 15, which had so much voltage, that when her mother touched it to take it down, it had killed her from electric shock. She had a trigger phrase that took her into an alien-searching frenzy, but I couldn't remember it and I didn't want to, even though I was wary not to say much in case I said the magic words and she killed me with her volts.

'Are - are you okay?' She had her breathing under control, and came to sit down on the side of my bed, her weight making the plastic sheet crinkle. I shifted away from her, just out of reach in case she wanted to take my hand. 'I heard the doctors talking about you.' She had shifted the conversation away from herself - she knew I hated when people babbled about themselves, but I also disliked talking about me. I didn't have to respond, so chose not to. She obviously knew this would happen, because she went on without missing a beat. 'They say you have...have a phobia. Haphephobia.'

'The fear of touch.' I said simply, because this was of no interest to me. I had already known. When Rapunzel had grasped my wrist yesterday, she had noticed I was seconds away from doing something drastic, so she had let me go.

'Also PTSD.' She paused. 'But I guess you already knew that.'

I nodded.

'Schizophrenia.'

I jerked my head in her direction as quick as lightning. '_What_?'

'They're saying you have that, too.'

She knew far too much for her own good. How did she get so close to even hear that? I narrowed my eyes slightly. 'You won't tell anyone.' It wasn't a question, it was a demand she would obey to whether she liked it or not. She nodded, and for once, I appreciated her loyalty. But I didn't dare smile.

Throughout the 15 minutes left before my departure, Ariel stayed in my room, sometimes leaving to get something from the cafe downstairs. Whenever she offered me a sandwich or coffee, I refused to eat it. 'You have to digest _something_, Elsa.' She almost whined it, but kept herself under control. 'I haven't seen you eat a proper meal in months.' It was true. I did eat snacks offered, like yogurt and burnt toast with my pills, but other than that, my eating disorders took over and I turned my nose at food. 'I'm not hungry.' I stated, glancing at the clock. 2 minutes. Getting up, I swiftly swiveled my feet around and planted them on the floor, standing up moving towards the door. 'Come on,' I told her, not even glancing in her direction, 'Lets go.'

'What? There is still...oh, a minute. Okay then.'

I nod at the receptionist, who purses her lips and no doubt is going to repeat to Mary I left 30 seconds before I was allowed. The smell of chemicals burns the inside of my nostrils, but I shrug it off, used to it. I don't look twice at anyone, and when I head into the waiting room, Gothel is there, fretting over her hair.

And sitting across from her are two girls, limp, like they've been sleeping. It only takes a split second for me to realize they're one of my illusions. I only know because they both have dried blood on their blouses, seeping red onto the white, like dripping snow. They are both only young, eight at the oldest, and have long, flowing brown hair that is pulled up into ponytails on each side of their heads. Then one of them snaps open her green, murky eyes, and locks her gaze onto me. She makes a slow, rabid, animal smile, like a pure evil voodoo doll.

'_Back here again, are we?_'

I knew why she said that. Every time I had come, they'd been in a different position. Sometimes sprawled on the ground, sometimes hanged from the ceiling fan. Always more horrifying than the next. When I had been younger, I wouldn't step in here for months, even though one of the care-takers was in there, and I needed to leave the hospital. Now, I just passed them with a side-ways glance, because I knew they weren't real and -

And the smiling girl stood up. I flatter in my steps. She walks over to me, her gait jerky, and my body seizes up in the same lock I had with the No-Handed Woman. She reaches up and delicately brushes her fingers over my skin, and _I can feel it again._ Her touch is feather soft, and it is _real_. I watch her eyes fill with...sadness? Guilt? Longing?

'_Its such a pity you're pretty. Your face won't last long._'

When I blink, she is back in the same position, grinning at me like the sadistic freak she probably was. I let out an involuntary shudder that ripples through my body, and then turn away, refusing to look at the twins that had always lay there, always been here. _How could no one see them?_

When Gothel sees me, she freezes, in the middle of smoothing her locks down, but then rises and smiles. 'Oh, Elsa. We weren't worried, if you would like to know.' I knew exactly why she said that, why she always did when I walked back from my tests and random appearances in the hospital. The only time she had lathered on words of sympathy, I cut her off and told her to never speak of it again. And she had obeyed for the last 8 years, which was something I acknowledged her for. After she had assessed me from a safe distance, we started walking out on the familiar route to the waiting cars. 'Come on,' she told Ariel as she held open the door for her, 'lets go home.'

I really loathed when they said that.

Home.

Like we were never going back.

And, clearly, it was obvious I wasn't.

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><p><strong>Write out and roll out!<strong>

**~Alk1101~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Elsa Arendelle is a mental hospital patient - she has murdered four people, all of whom were find frozen solid at the bottom of a lake. She claims to have no memory of the incidents and goes into insane fits, of which she was no collection of afterwards when the floor is coated in ice. But while she is in those seizures, she screams and curses that the Moon made her do it. She sees things that other people are missing, things that ****_aren't supposed to be there_****. Jack Frost knows why she does these things, and hunts her down to tell her the truth of her illness. **

**Elsa is being diagnosed with ****congenital analgesia - and is risking being sent to a higher mental asylum. Her nightmares of her hallucinations are escalating, and pretty soon, she won't be able to control her own mind and how she deals with it.**

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><p>The waiting room at St. Michael's is a hundred times better than a regular hospital's - because we all vary in ages, its basically a circular room, painted purple with large, plush and fluro bean bags scattered everywhere, along with some of those funky mirrors you see at carnivals that alter your body and face shape. There is two places like this - the waiting room for adults to drop off or collect day-time children, or the one for us patients when we are sent for medication or treatment. I'm too restless to sit down on one of the squat chairs. Instead, I amuse myself by walking around the mirrors, watching my image flicker and waver. When I look up at my face, I'm half-expecting what I see.<p>

Where I should have all my features - my nose, ears, eyes, mouth - everything - there is a just a blank, pale mask of skin.

"_Your face won't last long."_

I reach up a shaking hand and touch my face; its completely there, and I open my mouth to run my fingers along my bottom lip. Where has it gone? Is this an illusion? It has to be. How else would I see myself without any eyes? When I spin towards one of the more wonky mirrors that make you short and wide, I anticipate the same thing.

But I'm fine. I don't make any physical signs of relief, because Maleficent, the head maid, is watching me over the rim of her computer at the reception. The reception where I had seen Robot Man two weeks ago and gone into a mental fit.

'Elsa,' Maleficent drawls my name is her cool, collected tone, 'Mary will see you now.'

When I brush past her and into one of the tiny rooms where we usually hold blood tests, I see Mary _tsk_ing and shaking her head at me as I open the swinging door. I ignore the other person in the room, someone I haven't seen before. If they weren't important to why I was here, they didn't matter all that much. 'Hello, Elsa,' she chirps, smoothing out her gown before hunting through the transparent cabinets for something. 'How are you feeling?'

'Sublime.'

She makes a soft laugh, one that isn't fake, unlike some I've heard when she was with other patients. Whoever is behind me starts tapping their foot against the table, and I grit my teeth from the distraction. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?' I ask casually, leaving my arms out at my sides as I stand dumbly in the center of the room. Mary averts her eyes from me on purpose as she busies herself with whatever needle injection she is preparing. 'How are your evil monsters?' She asked, avoiding the other subject entirely. 'Don't say that.' I clench my left hand slightly. 'What?' She doesn't look up or rise alarm - I tell her not to say things often, and I haven't bothered with manners for years because she doesn't seem to care, unlike the other care-takers. 'Evil.' I repeat. 'Don't say it.'

'Why ever not?'

'Because evil can't be scientifically demarcated; it's a deceptive moral notion that doesn't exist in nature.'

Mary blinked at me. 'Right.'

'Did you also know that its ancestries and implications have been indissolubly linked to mythology and religion?' A male voice sounds from behind me, and I turn. There is a young man sitting on the table, bouncing his shoe up and down to make that annoying sound. His white hair makes a stark contrast to the dark colors he wears, and his light blue eyes study me with an interest, an easy smile on his lips. 'Bombastic.' I say simply, and I turn back around, having no interest in the stranger.

'Pardon?'

I don't answer, and obediently stick out my arm for Mary to clean with a swab before piercing the needle into my skin. I don't wince, feeling none of the pain that people usually cringe about. 'Do you feel that, Elsa?' Mary asks, and I shake my head. Her eyes are slightly wide, and she bits her lip before taking away my blood sample and turning back around. 'Elsa,' she stated, 'I found the bluntest needle I could, and then made it even blunter with a file. Do you know of any reason why I should do that?'

I rack my brains for a reasonable idea, none of the anger I expect coming, not making an appearance because it didn't faze me. 'Because,' I start slowly, 'You wanted to see how my body reacts to high levels of pain.' She does a small clap, then clasps her hands together. 'But why would I?'

'Because you had the audacity?'

'No. Try again.'

'...because my body and nerve systems didn't trigger properly, and I couldn't feel it.'

'Exactly!' She grins at me. 'You know, you are quite intelligent.'

I don't respond to her compliment. I hated praise, and this was no exception.

'Do you know what that type of condition is called?'

'...analgesia.'

'Brilliant! Yes!'

I pause, and everything that was scattered in my brain come together like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. Three years ago, I had been running down one of the hills to go to the bathroom, because it was the closest one and the hall was too far away from the soccer field. I remember wind stinging my eyes, the feeling of knowing I was going to trip but I didn't care because my legs were propelling themselves forwards fast, too fast -

And then, there came a dip the hill and I sprawled out on the ground, spread-eagle, and I remember looking up at the night sky, and wondering why I couldn't feel anything when I had hit my head on a large forlorn branch. As I shook it off and wandered back up, a small intake of breath sucked in behind me. I spun around, and Mary was there, looking like she had seen a ghost. 'Excuse me?' I asked, offended, folding my arms. 'It is rude to stare like that. You always tell me not do that, hypocrite.' But then in a swirl of panic and shock, she grabbed my hand and the next thing I know, I'm whisked away to one of the small sick bays. I squirm as she sits me down on the table, flustering herself with swabs and medical tools. 'I don't get it.' I tell her, kicking my legs against the wood to create a rhythm. 'I'm not sick, Mary.' But when she holds a paper towel to my head and shows me the blood, I scream.

I shake off the memory, and then smirk at her. 'So? Its not like it is a bad thing.'

She looks at me sternly. '_Yes_, it is a bad thing. Pain is what helps you know you're in danger.'

'Well, if I see people screaming and running, I'm pretty sure I have a good sign.'

She sighs, and then gestures at me. 'Are you just taking your mother's opinion?'

My stomach kicks up, dropping to my shoes. '_What_?'

She looks at me with sympathy, and I have the strongest urge to avert my eyes. 'Your mother had the same thing too, but her pain was...imagined.'

'My mother was crazy. Much more than you think I am.'

I must have been starting a fit, because she put a hand on my shoulder before flinching away when I hissed through my teeth. 'Okay. She was, I know.'

'But she was your friend.'

Mary has the smallest of reactions; a lined forehead. But then she smiles softly. 'Yes, a most dear friend. But things don't last forever.'

'Sorry to intrude,' I roll my eyes when the guy pipes up again, 'but we are using past tense because she is cured?'

I shoot Mary a look that could kill, then start taking my leave. 'No, bastard -'

'_Elsa_!'

I didn't bother listening to Mary. I called everyone that sooner or later, in front of their faces or under my breath. Usually both.

'- she died.'

'From what?'

I give a fleeting glance over my shoulder before leaving the room.

'Because I killed her.'

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><p><strong>Write out and roll out!<strong>

**~Alk1101~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Elsa Arendelle is a mental hospital patient - she has murdered four people, all of whom were find frozen solid at the bottom of a lake. She claims to have no memory of the incidents and goes into insane fits, of which she was no collection of afterwards when the floor is coated in ice. But while she is in those seizures, she screams and curses that the Moon made her do it. She sees things that other people are missing, things that ****_aren't supposed to be there_****. Jack Frost knows why she does these things, and hunts her down to tell her the truth of her illness. **

**When you don't count her parents, Elsa's murder number is four. But after a freak accident when her first seizure triggered, the only people that had ever truly loved her were wiped off the face of the Earth. **

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><p>Jane and Tiana weren't exactly my friends, but we did meet up every Thursday for a game of chess. This time around, they would come down to the game room and realize I wouldn't be showing myself. Partly because I wasn't bothered enough to have conversation, and also because I had had a seizure, one that had happened in the confinements of my room with no one around. I woke up on the floor, the cool tiles pressing into my left cheek, my legs still twitching slightly from the after-math. As i lifted my elbows to get up, I notice a pair of black school shoes bouncing up and down on my bed. A girl, young and smiling, is sitting, elbows on knees, face in hands as she eyes me with amusement and wonder. 'Are you going to get up?' Her voice is filled with innocence, until I notice the noose hanging limp around her neck, and the blood trail leading from my bed to the door. Her brown eyes sparkled, a dimple appearing as she lifted her mouth as if trying not to laugh.<p>

It was one of the hung girls from the oak tree.

'It must be awfully chilly down there.' She cocked her head, as if studying me as a specimen. 'Do you want to play hopscotch?' I remained silent as I straightened myself up, and flipped over so I was sitting on the ground. I didn't know whether to stand up or not - the girl - I mean, my _illusion_ - wasn't blocking my limbs and muscles from moving. I steadily got to my feet, staring at her. She met my emotionless stare with another grin. 'Oh, you're a sociopath. _I can see into your eyes._' Her voice was changing from bouncy and playful, and drooping into a raspy, gritty voice that was low and aggressive. I took an involuntary step back. '_We know what you have done, Elsa._' Her face looked blank and dead now, like a human being possessed, her head lolling to one side. '_We know what you did to your parents_.'

'No.' I didn't realize I had said it until the girl thrives on my reaction. '_Would you like to see your parents, Elsa?_'

'It was an accident.' I wasn't pleading - my vocals never wavered from neutral or yelling. It was the sad truth I had come to accept. 'By all means, show me.'

I was goading my...my own _hallucination_, for God's sake. I don't know why I say it, but then the lights dim in the room, before flickering off. The space around me is deathly silent, and I can only see pitch black wherever I turn. My breath isn't caught and I'm not panicked. _This isn't real._

_'Would you like to see your parents, Elsa?'_ Her voice is whispered, now back to its normal joy.

_Fake. Fake. Fake. No. Yes. Real. NO._

_'They've been _dying_ to meet you.'_

She laughs softly before I feel myself tipping backwards into something like an entire abyss.

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><p><em>I always hated the dessert. It was terrible how the sun sizzled you until you resembled a boiled lobster. That's what I'm surrounded by now - dunes of red, yellow, orange all mingling together. Yet there is a road of gravel, and a black Jeep has rumbled to a stop.<em>

_Or 'crashed down a hill, flipped over, and landed on its roof' is more accurate. _

_I move to take a step down there - but there is nothing beneath my feet, yet I can see my toes digging into the rocks beneath them. I jump from foot to foot a bit to get used to the sensation, then start heading down to the sand where the Jeep rolled over. I flatter when I see a small 7 or 8 year-old crawl out of the car, crying out as her palms dig into shards of glass._

_It doesn't take me long to realize I'm staring at myself. _

_I know how these things work - she can't see me, but I can see her. I don't see any point in watching longer. I've already been down in that ditch once, and I don't want to experience it again. Instead I walk further to my right - where my 8 year-old self will soon go - and brace myself what I'll see. _

_My mother and father are there, but everything is wrong, wrong, wrong._

_I had always found my mother's sharp features were given to me, but now they were stronger than ever. Her eyes were wide and fearful, teeth gritted. You couldn't blame her for feeling terrified._

_Because my father was holding a knife to her throat._

_I knew I couldn't prevent it, so I sat down on a dune and watched. _

_It hit me just then how sick this was - like I was watching a movie when it was a re-play of reality. I found it twisted how I could just sit there and watch this, like I was merely viewing the news. But I didn't feel anything towards them. My mother was crazy, and my father hated it. _

_'You will keep yourself together,' he hissed, a few strips of blood leaking from her neck to trail down the knife. 'Never. Ever. Do that again.'_

_'B-but there was a...a dead-on.'_

_'There was nothing of the sort, Idun.'_

_'Yes, there was.' A small strength was leaking into her voice, like she could over-throw my father._

_'Daddy?' I crane my neck to see the small me, frozen, viewing it with caution. 'What are you doing?'_

_'Get back in the car, Elsa.' He was straining to keep his voice calm and gentle - I could tell his smile would reduce to a scowl. But the younger me didn't._

_'Why are you hurting Mummy?'_

_'I said, get back in the car!'_

_And then somewhere, distant to my ears yet so close, a gunshot fires and the world drops into a haze._

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><p>I'm on my hands and knees, eyes trained on the floor beneath me as I suck in deep breaths. The lights are flickering, like deciding whether or not give me the pleasure of light or fear of darkness. When I'm calmed enough, I sit back on the floor and study the girl. She hasn't moved - the only difference is she is playing with the noose around her neck as if it was a necklace. 'See, remembering is great and all,' she shrugged, standing up, 'but it pains us to be reminded of the mistakes we can cause.'<p>

She looks at me over her shoulder, a sly grin playing on her lips. 'And you would know all about mistakes, wouldn't you, Elsa?'

And then the lights finally shut off, and the door shuts with a soft _click_.

It only seemed like a minute passed by the time I got up and walked out into the main room. Suddenly, Ariel is all I can see in my vision, the aura around her thick with panic and worry. 'Elsa!' She cried, almost diving in to hug me. I take a step back, regarding her under my nose like I hadn't been gone. 'What?'

Her jaw almost dropped. 'What do you mean, what?! You've been gone for more than three hours!'

Before I can form a sentence, she takes hold of my wrist. At first I expect her to let go, but then she tightens her grip and is dragging me down the hall. I knew with these things to be forward and don't be afraid to get rough.

'_Let go of me!_' My voice is loud and commanding, but she is obviously immune to it. It is then that I realize I've probably said that in a seizure, no doubt in front of her. 'Ariel - _let go_!' This time she does - and we are out in the courtyard, just the two of us.

'What is it?!' I hiss, vigorously rubbing my wrist to get another human's touch away from me.

'It - it's Rapunzel.'

'What?'

'I think she is dead.'

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><p><strong>Write out and roll out!<strong>

**~Alk1101~**


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